


The Sixth Extinction: Part 1

by scullywolf



Series: TXF: Scenes in Between [141]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, MSR, Missing Scene, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7765087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullywolf/pseuds/scullywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Turns out, catatonic states aren't as restful as they look."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sixth Extinction: Part 1

_“I don’t believe in aliens, Agent Mulder. I think you know that.”  
“I do. That’s why I need you.”_

It's like breathing deeply for the first time in days. The swirling maelstrom in his head has quieted to a dull roar, above which he can isolate thoughts and images one by one, a welcome relief from the unceasing bombardment he's endured up to now. Diana. Skinner. Kritschgau. Doctor, nurse, orderly. He sifts through each in turn, none of them the one he wants.

None of them Scully.

But she’s too far away, beyond even his enhanced mind’s reach. His brave Scully, chasing answers on the other side of the world. He can only hope that by the time she gets back, they’ll have found some answers of their own, here. Kritschgau’s just left to get some equipment so they can try to quantify -- or at least prove the existence of -- Mulder’s extrasensory abilities. From there, they can hopefully start trying to isolate the cause.

Not as though he doesn’t already know the cause. But that knowledge means next to nothing without proof.

“How’re you feeling?” Even if he couldn’t hear Skinner’s running mental commentary, the tension in his boss’s voice would have given away how much stress he’s under.

“Tired,” is his honest answer. “Turns out catatonic states aren’t as restful as they look.”

“But this drug, this phenytoin. It’s helping?”

“For now,” Mulder says. “It’s just a patch, though. Kritschgau knows it’s not viable, long-term. Knows the doctors would never approve it as a treatment, especially not at the dosage required to actually do anything.”

“Is it dangerous?”

Mulder shrugs as best he can, lying on his back. “Pick your poison. I’m on borrowed time either way, and at least this way I’m actually coherent enough to try and help figure this out.”

Skinner doesn’t say aloud how unsettling it is to see him not in his right mind, but Mulder can hear the thought as clearly as if he had. He doesn’t envy his boss, or Scully, having to see him like that; living through the loss of control himself is bad enough. And as welcome as this reprieve is, it won’t last long. They’ll have to re-dose him when Kritschgau returns, probably.

“We’re going to do everything we can to help you,” Skinner says. “Whatever it takes.”

It’s a pretty thought, and he knows that Skinner sincerely means it. But Skinner’s not Scully, and he’s fighting not only against time but against those who would dearly like to see him fail. There are at least a few people who don’t want to see Mulder cured, and they’ve got eyes and ears right here in the hospital. The errand Skinner sent her on won’t keep her busy for long, and she’s probably already reported back to her other employers.

“Careful what you promise, there,” Mulder murmurs. “And careful who you trust. You’re not the only person Diana answers to, you know.”

Skinner’s eyes narrow. “You have reason to doubt Agent Fowley’s integrity?”

“I should’ve seen it a long time ago, but I didn’t want to believe. Scully knew, though. She figured it out, and I told her she was crazy.” His mind assaults him then with images, Scully’s face, disappointed and hurt, reflected back at him from a hundred different angles like funhouse mirrors. Closing his eyes doesn’t help, and he tries to direct his focus elsewhere, to dull the pain. “Kritschgau’s motives aren’t exactly selfless, either. I still think he’s the best one to help, but watch your back. He got screwed over by Uncle Sam, and you might end up being the closest target for revenge.”

Skinner’s next thought is overlapped by those of at least two other people, the combination triggering a screeching feedback noise inside Mulder’s mind. He groans and reaches for his head, thwarted by the straps around his wrists, and his temples throb in time with his racing heart. There was a time he might once have imagined telepathy to be convenient, a means to uncover secrets and separate truth from lies; he never guessed it would hurt like this.

“--Mulder! Agent Mulder, can you hear me?” Skinner’s voice sounds like it’s travelling through water. “Agent Mulder!”

The attack subsides as quickly as it came on, and Mulder gasps at the sudden relief. Blinking his eyes open, he nods wearily at Skinner before letting them slip closed again.

“I”m okay. I’m okay.” Even his own whisper is harsh in his ears, and exhaustion presses down on him like a physical weight. Forming words suddenly seems to take a tremendous amount of effort. “Sir I’m gon-- I’m gonna rest. Try to get some sleep before Kritschgau gets back, if I can.”

He’s unconscious before he has a chance to hear any response Skinner might have made.


End file.
